


Collar Full Of Sugar

by hellhoundsprey



Series: fullofsugar!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Bottom Jared, Breathplay, Crossdressing, Feminization, Lolita Jared, M/M, Older Jensen, Teacher Jensen, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's favorite student also happens to be Jensen's favorite everything.<br/>(A little something inspired by <a href="http://explicitwincest.tumblr.com/post/140803615517">this aesthetic</a> by <a href="http://explicitwincest.tumblr.com/">explicitwincest</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar Full Of Sugar

A thin line between Jared’s eyebrows, along with a held-back curl of upper lip and a hushed, “Not on the fingers.”

“Absolutely on the fingers.” 

The small brush keeps stroking what Jensen’s hand holds out for it. A sigh; Jensen can almost imagine seeing the faint shine of pink darkening on the kid’s cheeks. But he is too occupied with not getting any color on Jared’s cuticles. He can get his fill on watching later.

“Now don’t be like that,” he hums, dips the brush into the polish again, keeps working. “We’ll get it off before you leave, promise.”

Making traces vanish. One of their (but mostly Jensen’s) greatest talents. Skills, maybe, because you have to _earn_ those. Jensen has a lot of traces to get rid of ever since he got assigned to the class with Jared Tristan in it. Without a doubt, nail polish remover counts among his most innocent tools.

As much as Jared complained about the very same color on his nails, he doesn’t hesitate much before slipping into the almost too small pair of baby pink panties. Maybe because he was stripped bare shortly after coming in, after discarding his rucksack somewhere Jensen doesn’t remember, doesn’t need to. Jensen has got him. He always has.

“You look beautiful.”

Jared’s skin warm underneath his hand, his back as fragile as it could be, Jensen worships. Worships every inch (they seem to multiply daily), gives holy hallelujah for the glossy finish on the tips of Jared’s fingers as he brushes his own hair back behind his ear. “Thank you,” the kid whispers while Jensen hooks delicate lace. Jared doesn’t have any tits to cover with this bra but his nipples are just as good as any girl’s. Jensen has always been a fan of a nice pair of tits. Apparently though, something about Jared Tristan makes him forget about a lot of things that took place before Jared Tristan.

“My pretty girl,” Jensen says, and this is a line he has said before, even before Jared Tristan.

Jared Tristan doesn’t answer, never does, because he can’t, because Jensen can feel his body temperature spiking so hard that he is amazed that he cannot hear the kid wheezing. Or moaning. But those are later sounds.

Jared Tristan feels just right on this couch, together with Jensen, little bird back pressing up against Jensen’s teacher-trustworthy chest, lace and skin against crispy ironed shirt, cheap teenage body wash against Armani cologne. It’s a tease to be like this in the open living room space, even though nobody would come to Mr. Ackles’ patio and have a peek inside - but sometimes Jared’s pulse ticks so hard at an unexpected but harmless noise that one would think he was still on guard even now. _Always_ on guard; maybe better like this. Jensen’s good student. Top student. Such a bright future. So much potential. Such a blessing in the hard home of Mr. Ackles’ lap.

A tug and rearrangement has the fabric caught tighter between Jared’s cheeks. Jensen rubs his fingers for something he cherishes and hears his little girl making a noise when he finds it. It’s damp from sweat even through the creases of fabric and Jensen imagines it soft there, waiting and fascinating and so sinful. They both creamed themselves when he got a finger in there last time. Maybe again today. Jensen will see. Jared deserves to be treated right.

Everything is good with Jared Tristan. It is like rediscovering the world piece by piece, touch by touch. Jensen could stare forever into these eyes that never seem to be able to decide, never seem to want to settle. He chases them in the classroom along with everybody else’s, but here, in his home, with Jared in forbidden lace and Jensen’s fingers where he sneaked it underneath something not made for boys and one finger where Jared Tristan has been nobody’s anything yet, well, here, Jensen is all Jared’s.

Jared Tristan can be dangerous at times. All times, actually, even though he never intends to be. But when Jensen’s finger slips halfway underneath pink and not even grazes some entirely other pink, Jared’s hitched breath and arched back and one hand each on the back of Jensen’s hand and Jensen’s tie, oh, he knows exactly and all too well. Too well for a young thing like him. But young things like him shouldn’t have beard-burnt chins and mouths either. Shouldn’t have a hard-on pressing up against their ass.

“Please.”

And Jared tugs. Just a little. Just enough to drive the knot of Jensen’s tie closer to his throat. A silent dare, warning; not so silent plea. Jensen goes dizzy with it and undoes his slack’s fly, feels Jared shivering at his feral grunt, too grown-up for someone Jared’s sophomore age but yet exactly right.

Underneath his palm, Jared’s heart pummels almost as violently as Jensen’s pulse where he has a hand wrapped around himself to keep himself from stupid things. Jared cranes his neck as if he had never seen Jensen’s cock before, as if it still was so miraculous that he just _has_ to catch a glimpse of it. Jensen pushes it where he stuffed the panties, deep but not penetrating, and if Jared had some more muscles in his hips, that backwards push he gives would have been enough to drive Jensen in.

They groan. It’s better than last time. It had been the other way around last time; Jared stark naked and Jensen still covered in briefs, little girl riding her teacher’s lap in reverse cowgirl, letting him thumb at her virgin asshole. But it’s better like this. Better not to see Jared, easier to be bare himself. If he keeps his girl covered, maybe that will make it less worse. Will keep Jared purer longer. _(You tainted him the second you let him touch your bare arm while handing in his homework, and you know it.)_ If only Jared himself wanted to stay pure, too.

But Jared is already a sin - tugs on his dear Mr. Ackles’ tie and looks up into his wild eyes like fever himself, eyes a little wet just like Jensen’s cockhead, like his own, all wedged and hidden behind pink that earns a growing dark spot in the front. Not like a girl at all, no, but nothing gets Mr. Ackles’ cock as hard as that very thought.

Jensen comes quick with Jared Tristan but Jared Tristan’s idea of ‘quick’ in this department still is in an entirely different league, so Jensen doesn’t have to be ashamed. Not about that, at least; maybe about how he has no problem blowing right there against Jared’s cherry, all over pastel colored cotton that makes Jensen’s eyes roll back into his head almost as hard as the sweet and unexperienced hold on his tie, his breath.

Jensen knows he is no saint, but as long as Jared Tristan keeps on handing out miracles like boy scout cookies, he will keep bargaining for heaven.


End file.
